Lily Lee

Collected by Max Hunter (H-10)
For Mary C. Parler
Transcribed by Frances Majors
Sung by D. J. Ingenthron
Forsythe, Missouri
July 15, 1958
Reel 253-54, Item 4
Lily Lee
Down by the shores of the sounding sea
Was the humble home of my Lily Lee,
And over the deep and the far away
Was a sailor lover, bright and gay.
To gather diamonds, to gather gold,
Over the waters so clear and cold,
His future to God he dare not trust,
But he wanted it down in golden dust.
So with a kiss and a parting thrill,
He changed his heart to an iron drill;
He bent his back to an oaken oar,
And he sailed away from the sounding shore.
He sailed away, away, away,
Farther, father, day by day,
Thinking only of his diamonds and gold,
And all the joys they'd bring him when he got old.
She stood on the bank with a quivering lip;
She watched and she wept for the sailing ship;
She watched and she sighed till it faded away
Into a bank of desolate gray.
He sailed away, away, away,
Farther, farther, day by day.
Oftimes in visions dreamed at night,
He say a terrible ghastly light,
A coffin floating about on the sea,
And on it the name of Lily Lee.
But why need such vision, trouble in mind,
When safe she's walking the shore behind?
It never could have been such misfortune or mistake
That corpses would have been in such a state.
Lily Lee (Cont'd)
Reel 253- 54, Item 4 (Cont'd)
After many long years of tossing about,
This good old ship takes a homeward route,
Saying nothing about the infant glee,
But I'm bound for the home of my Lily Lee.
Once more again the strife is o'er,
For rich he steps on the sounding shore;
He soars away to his love's cot,
But he finds it alone in a desolate spot.
The stones of the wall was scattered and black,
The door off the hinges, roof all rack;
The owl and the bat wing swift by near,
With a hooting and screeching, not here, not here.
Pleasant churchyard lying in his way,
All covered with flowers in the month of May;
Just twenty graves he'd already passed,
When suddenly stopped with an eye on gaze.
He fell to his knees with a hollowing mourn
As he saw one name on a marble stone.
He wiped his eyes from a single tear,
But still those letters, they were there;
He read them again , but what could he see
But sweet remembrance of Lily Lee?

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Collected by Max Hunter (H-10)
For Mary C. Parler
Transcribed by Frances Majors
Sung by D. J. Ingenthron
Forsythe, Missouri
July 15, 1958
Reel 253-54, Item 4
Lily Lee
Down by the shores of the sounding sea
Was the humble home of my Lily Lee,
And over the deep and the far away
Was a sailor lover, bright and gay.
To gather diamonds, to gather gold,
Over the waters so clear and cold,
His future to God he dare not trust,
But he wanted it down in golden dust.
So with a kiss and a parting thrill,
He changed his heart to an iron drill;
He bent his back to an oaken oar,
And he sailed away from the sounding shore.
He sailed away, away, away,
Farther, father, day by day,
Thinking only of his diamonds and gold,
And all the joys they'd bring him when he got old.
She stood on the bank with a quivering lip;
She watched and she wept for the sailing ship;
She watched and she sighed till it faded away
Into a bank of desolate gray.
He sailed away, away, away,
Farther, farther, day by day.
Oftimes in visions dreamed at night,
He say a terrible ghastly light,
A coffin floating about on the sea,
And on it the name of Lily Lee.
But why need such vision, trouble in mind,
When safe she's walking the shore behind?
It never could have been such misfortune or mistake
That corpses would have been in such a state.
Lily Lee (Cont'd)
Reel 253- 54, Item 4 (Cont'd)
After many long years of tossing about,
This good old ship takes a homeward route,
Saying nothing about the infant glee,
But I'm bound for the home of my Lily Lee.
Once more again the strife is o'er,
For rich he steps on the sounding shore;
He soars away to his love's cot,
But he finds it alone in a desolate spot.
The stones of the wall was scattered and black,
The door off the hinges, roof all rack;
The owl and the bat wing swift by near,
With a hooting and screeching, not here, not here.
Pleasant churchyard lying in his way,
All covered with flowers in the month of May;
Just twenty graves he'd already passed,
When suddenly stopped with an eye on gaze.
He fell to his knees with a hollowing mourn
As he saw one name on a marble stone.
He wiped his eyes from a single tear,
But still those letters, they were there;
He read them again , but what could he see
But sweet remembrance of Lily Lee?